


Monogamous

by not_thepresident



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (i mean most likely), (light smut), Drabble, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Draco Malfoy is a Little Shit, F/M, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Pillow Talk, Relationship Negotiation, Smut, clearly just writing for the sake of getting these two in bed, literally don't know what timeline or au this would be in, perhaps?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:20:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28766982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_thepresident/pseuds/not_thepresident
Summary: A relationship clarification.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 132





	Monogamous

**Author's Note:**

> thought this would have a place in my wip, and that is turning out to NOT be the case. still liked the scene though, hopefully its enjoyable!

Malfoy’s tongue was _sinful_ against her skin, and he wasn’t even close to being anywhere important. Hermione stared at the ceiling, her fingers twisting into the sheets. When his mouth dipped below her stomach, his lips kissing near her hipbone, Hermione’s heart leapt into her mouth. There was excitement, nervousness bubbling inside of her, and she let out a whimper.  
  
Malfoy shushed against her hip, the hot air making her melt. “Have to be quiet, Granger,” he mumbled. His teeth grazed, raising goosebumps across her stomach as he continued his downward venture.  
  
“How...are you?” she gasped out, her mouth so slow compared to her head.  
  
Malfoy chuckled. “I’m fine,” he drawled, and she felt his eyes on her briefly, his hand snaking around her thigh and holding her hip down from behind.  
  
“No,” she staggered. “How are you _quiet_?”  
  
At that, he fully stopped, and she nearly whined for him to continue. _Keep going down, you stupid idiot_. She felt his chest expand in between her legs, his sides brushing against her and making her shiver. Hermione dared to break from the ceiling and look at him, but he was watching her stomach, playing with the line of her panties and tickling her lightly.  
  
“Takes some practice,” he finally said, his voice heavy and low.  
  
Hermione’s eyes narrowed. She lifted herself up, supporting her torso with her elbows and sliding away from him slightly. His arm lost its traction around her hip, and his head whipped to frown fully at her, his lower lip pouting outwards.  
  
“Some _practice_?” she said slowly. It came out more sultry than she intended; she wanted no part of Malfoy’s sexual escapades. She supposed she was well on her way to becoming a peg on his nightstand, but that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it. Of course, she _knew_ about Malfoy’s reputation. Heard of it, didn’t care for it.  
  
At least, she didn’t care for it _before_.  
  
Malfoy grinned devilishly, his head cocking as he pulled himself closer to her, back to his original position: directly in between her legs (or “at her mercy,” as he liked to call it).  
  
“Could it be that Hermione Granger is _jealous_?”  
  
He was teasing her. She knew it. But he was dangerously close to her, his lips toying with the top of her panties and _Merlin_ her eyes were fluttering.

“I’m...not jealous,” she said weakly. She refused to throw her head back, instead fighting to remain neutral, to stare back at him with as much irritation that she could muster.

It wasn’t much.  
  
He chuckled, sliding back a bit and giving a chaste kiss on the inside of her thigh. Hermione’s mouth became dry, filled with sand.  
  
“It was a long time ago,” he murmured against her, moving upwards on her leg.  
  
“Who?” Hermione bit her lip, trying to ignore his tongue now lightly trailing circles as he approached her. She squirmed, her toes pointing and her legs closing in around him.  
  
Malfoy sighed, but he closed his lips around his breath, allowing it to chill her. “Well, I dated Daphne for a bit.”  
  
Hermione hummed. Her head fell back against her will. His chin brushed over her as he fingered at her underwear.  
  
“I kissed Astoria once.”  
  
“Why?” she said hoarsely.  
  
“We were to be engaged, last I checked.”  
  
Hermione jerked away from him, sitting up entirely. “Excuse me?”  
  
Malfoy settled into himself, his head hanging as he exhaled. “Granger, it’s not going to happen.”  
  
“And why should I believe you?”  
  
She was sure that he was clinically required to lie.  
  
Malfoy smirked, his hands shooting out and grabbing around her hips, pulling her back towards him.  
  
“Malfoy—!”  
  
“When have Malfoys ever been denied what they want?” he asked. His eyes were light, barely grey against his pale skin, and they sparkled playfully.  
  
Hermione huffed. “That could be Pansy, for all I know.”  
  
He kissed her on the stomach, only for his eyebrows to draw toward the bridge of his nose. Malfoy looked up then, his gaze somehow affronted and baffled at the same time.

“I’m _literally_ between your legs at the moment," he drawled impressively.   
  
Hermione's jaw tightened, her teeth grinding uncomfortably. He didn't especially need to inform her of _that_.

“Did you ever truly break up with her?” she blurted, her head cocking.   
  
Malfoy stared at her blankly. “She’s preoccupied with Blaise," he finally said, as if that was impossibly clear.  
  
“Knowing her, she wouldn’t mind the two of you at the same time—”  
  
“Granger,” he said tersely. She froze, her head snapping to face him. His mouth was dangerously close to her underwear. She could feel his breath against her, her muscles tensing. Malfoy raised a brow, the corner of his mouth pulling smartly.  
  
“Do you want to talk about Pansy, or do you want me to give you head?”  
  
Hermione’s heart leapt into her mouth. He cocked his head, his eyes still glittering like the truest silver.  
  
“I can’t do both,” he admitted quietly, his shoulders shrugging.  
  
Hermione stared at him. Her tongue was thick, laying uncomfortably, and her mouth was dry, like she had been stuck in a desert for much too long. She hated him in that moment; pitting her wants against each other like some deviant.  
  
Malfoy was her oasis in the desert, whether she liked it or not.  
  
“I want you to give me head,” she said slowly.  
  
Malfoy smiled fully and ripper her panties down so hard she swore there was a tear.

* * *

Hermione stared at the wall, curling her arms under her chin and frowning. It was still early; Malfoy would have to leave soon. She was sure he was asleep next to her, but she didn’t dare turn to check, if only to keep him there for just a bit longer.  
  
Malfoy had some internal clock, though. She heard him shift, roll over, and then his chest was against her back, his arm sliding down her side before resting over her.  
  
“What’s bothering you?” he muttered sleepily into her neck.  
  
“Nothing,” she hushed, shaking her head lightly.  
  
Malfoy sighed. “You’re a horrid liar. I can’t even see your face.”  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, nestling further into him. “I was just thinking about your fiancée,” she admitted quietly.  
  
It was quiet behind her, like he was holding his breath. She felt his hand lift, press against her shoulder to turn her to face him, and then he was there, gloomy and grim as he propped himself up with an elbow.  
  
“You’re still on this?” he asked, his impatience clear.  
  
Hermione’s mouth dropped in exasperation. “Pardon _me_ for being a bit put off by your engagement.”  
  
“The _idea_ of my engagement was proposed by my mother, Granger. Seeing that she is _dead_ and my father increasingly senile, the only one deciding who I’m engaged to is _me_.”  
  
Hermione didn’t even know why she cared. She bit at the inside of her cheek and folded her arms petulantly.  
  
“You and your fiancée,” she argued.  
  
Malfoy balked, his mouth slightly agape.  
  
“You are so antagonistic,” he muttered, shaking his head. He rolled away from her, and Hermione could see in her periphery that he was sitting at the edge of the bed and reaching to the floor. Most likely for his pants.  
  
“Like you’re one to talk,” Hermione said snidely.  
  
“Takes one to know one, Granger,” he huffed, standing to fully pull his pants on. Hermione fully twisted, his back catching her full attention as he zippered and buttoned. She could see the barest hint of the scarred tendrils from Harry’s _sectumsepra_ attack curling around his torso and spidering his upper arms.  
  
She licked her lips, hesitating. She didn’t want him to leave like this. She promised herself she wouldn’t put themselves in a position like that, regardless of their inability to label anything.  
  
“Malfoy.” She called to him, sitting up fully and pulling the covers with her.  
  
“I have to go,” he muttered, grabbing his shirt and throwing it over his head. Hermione wished she could kiss his torso goodbye.  
  
“But—”  
  
“We’ll talk about it later.”  
  
She knew full well they wouldn’t. He was stellar at controlling conversations, if only to prevent her from bringing anything he wasn’t keen on up.  
  
“Draco.”  
  
He froze.  
  
His name was still foreign on her lips. It felt wrong, like a spell she had mistook for another. But maybe that was it — maybe it didn’t feel wrong, but it just _felt_. Hermione knew names could have power, but she never experienced it before. Was this what they meant?  
  
“I just...” Hermione fumbled, even after the long silence. “I don’t think you would take it very well if you found out _I_ could be engaged,” she said quickly.  
  
She refused to look at him, even when she heard the floor creak under his weight, saw one of his hands rest against the bed as he leaned toward her. His other hand was at her chin before she could protest, lifting her head to meet his gaze.  
  
“If we’re ignoring the fact that this is entirely too serious a conversation to be bothering ourselves about,” he started carefully, his eyes unwavering. “Astoria is like a sister to me. As is Daphne, as is Pansy. And if you need further clarification, I don’t _intend_ on going down on them any time soon.”  
  
Hermione smiled, breathing out a laugh despite herself. Malfoy returned it gently, leaning and kissing the corner of her mouth before resting his forehead crookedly against hers.  
  
“So Draco Malfoy is monogamous, then,” she teased lightly, pulling away and raising a brow at him.  
  
His eyes lingered on her lips for a second too long. He knew what she was asking; nothing ever slipped past him.  
  
“If that’s what we are, then yes,” he said hesitantly.  
  
Hermione lifted her chin. “And what are we?”  
  
He grinned cheekily. “Monogamous.”  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes as he pulled away. “Whatever,” she grumbled.  
  
“I’ll be back tomorrow night.”  
  
Hermione hesitantly looked at him. He was leaning against the doorway, his face annoyingly unreadable.  
  
“Okay,” she said quietly. She fiddled with her fingers nervously. “Be safe.”  
  
Malfoy stared at her like she was oxygen, drinking her up and refusing to exhale. It made her heart stutter, her chest tighten to the point of exploding.  
  
“Of course.”


End file.
